A Wise Heart
by asynje
Summary: For some things there are no words


Disclaimer:No profit, no disrespect, no claims. Love the Peredhil; want the Peredhil; can't have the Peredhil.  
Fandom:LotR, unspecified Age - after Celebrián's departure  
Archive:FF - others are welcome; just drop me a line in a review  
Warnings:Slash but in no way explicit. The attitude of the fic does not reflect my attitutude since I'm not a denizen of Arda and much more tolerant than I'd expect them to be.  
Summary: For some things there are no words.  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
They have known each other for millennia: fighting together, laughing together, grieving together. They have been friends for so long that it is hard for both to remember what it was like before.  
  
They make a beautiful image when they stand together people will often say. Elrond Noldo-dark, broad-shouldered, with eyes bright as Eärendil in the Heavens; Glorfindel's hair as molten gold, lean and lithe, skin shimmering as the stars themselves.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
They never speak of it.  
There are no words.  
Glorfindel remembers Gondolin and believes that there were words for it then. But they are gone now. It makes it seem as if words too can burn. Or drown. Or flee.  
It bothers him little - this lack of words. It bothers Elrond; this he knows. For his friend is a Loremaster and a lover of words. He needs them like he needs air.  
Glorfindel treasures actions more than words and sensation even more so. For Mandos is cold and the spirit has no skin and feel no touch.  
When there are no words there can be no questions; no accusations. Without words there is nothing to question or to accuse of. But neither is there words to praise with; not truly.  
Glorfindel likes the simplicity of the lack of words but sometimes it saddens him that he can sing nothing to Elrond but wordless melodies.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
  
They never speak of it.  
There are no words.  
Elrond knows all the laws of their people; the rules, the exceptions, the crimes. But never has he found any words for this.   
Elrond is wed and his silver queen awaits him across the Sundering Sea and there can be no other in his heart.  
But there are.  
His children.  
His kin.  
His friends.  
These loves are right.   
These loves are good.  
This is certain.  
  
But for this there is no word and it cannot be right. It goes against the spirit if not the letter of the law. But if there are no words - can it then be wrong ?  
For it feels as good and as right as all the other loves that inhabits his heart. But at night Celebrián weeps in his dreams.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
  
At first he had feared that these ... thoughts ... these urges .... would somehow dim the very radiance that drew him close, tarnish the gold he longes to caress. That it at the very least would sully their friendship. But he had not been able to keep it to himself for that would have been decieving his friend who has always known his heart. And that would be wrong.  
  
Glorfindel merely laughed that night when he first spoke to him of these ... thoughts ... and then leaned forward; bright eyes glittering; pressing cool lips against Elrond's. The kiss had been chaster than a spouse's; deeper than a friends, and Elrond had felt the absence of words as a tightening in his heart.   
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
  
There are no words. Glorfindel has thought of what to call it often but no words come to him. He would give the words to Elrond if he could, for he feels the tightness in the Half-Elven's chest as easily as was his own heart trapped. But he can only soothe the body and for one who has never been without flesh that might not be enough.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
  
There are no words. And finally Elrond begins to believe that it does not matter. For there are feelings and these are as real and necessary as words. Celebrián smiles in his dreams now. And when he looks at Glorfindel laying in the sunshine; marble skin dappled with gold and green the tightening of his heart is very close to joy and he finds himself smiling.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~  
  
There are no words.  
But when the sun smiles down and the world sings jubilant even a lover of words can see that that matters not.  
  
The heart knows.  
  
~~*~~ * ~~*~~ 


End file.
